


WHY POPE IOANNES SHEPPARDUS WILL NEVER MAKE SAINT

by esteefee



Series: Pope John [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Blasphemy, Crack, First Time, M/M, Religion Kink, WTF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 20:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>LJ IS DOWN. ANARCHY & BLASPHEMY. POPE IOANNES SHEPPARDUS DECREES: NC-17 CAKE!</p>
            </blockquote>





	WHY POPE IOANNES SHEPPARDUS WILL NEVER MAKE SAINT

[If I were the Pope (and this is quite impossible, for not only am I a woman, thanks to the Great Schism of 1054, I'm Greek Orthodox by birth, plus, you know, I'm an atheist) I would raise my holy sanctified mahoozits, wiggle my mitre and decree—hang on a second.

  


[](http://esteefee.com/imgs/mitre.jpg)  


  


If JOHN SHEPPARD were the Pope. Oh, that's much, much better. Because first of all, he would allow condoms! Condoms for everybody! But also, BUTTSEX for everyone who wants it! While he's on the subject, don't forget cunnilingus and fellatio and frottage, all of which John is very fond of: he's a open-minded pope, one could say even loose-hipped and carefree under all those heavy vestments.]

Not that Rodney would admit as much when he visited Pope Ioannes Sheppardus at the Holy See in search of sparkly relics and the like. "You'll never make Beatus at this rate," Rodney grumbled and stumbled through the catacombs, poking this and that and scribbling into his thick journal.

"That's assuming I wanna be a saint," Pope John said, and he waggled his eyebrows—seriously, did he think he was Groucho Marx? Who, by the way, was hardly a saint either, with his floozies and his orally suggestive cigars and Rodney wasn't thinking about that, because there were artefacts to be found of deep scientific significance, and those idiots at the Vatican who'd demanded his chastity for six months in order to grant him access hadn't had any idea who they were dealing with, that was for damned sure. They didn't know Rodney Abernathy McKay!

"So, whatcha looking for, anyway?" John's mitre kept getting knocked off his head by the low ceiling, so he'd finally put it in a little niche, to Rodney's short-lived relief—short-lived, because Pope John's hair was even more ridiculous than that pointy-hatted get-up.

"Is that seriously your hair? Seriously?"

John scratched his head. "Most days. Look, I only let you down here because Bishop Ronon said you were an okay guy, a pretty good scholar and all that, but if you're gonna make fun of my _hair_ —"

"No, no. It's lovely, really. I've never seen prettier."

John raised an eyebrow.

"Manlier. It's—sincerely, I think your hair could take on The Rock."

John pointed at him. "Now that's more like it." He waved his hand. "Carry on."

"Jeez," Rodney muttered under his breath, "I think your Pontiff-ness is going to your head. And I mean that literally."

"What was that?"

"Nothing." Rodney was so busy being grouchy and just a little bit turned on by the way His Holiness' black pants showed below his vestments that he almost missed the faint crack in the wall that lit up as the Pontiff passed. "Stop!"

"What, here?"

"Yes! There. Back up."

John gave him a condescending look.

"What?"

"I'm waiting for the magic word."

"The magic—oh, come _on_. You're holding up scientific progress, here, mister!"

"Hey! Watch who you're talking to! I'm God's Divine Ambassador on Earth, you know."

"Right. Like you really believe that stuff. You touched that sceptery thing and it glowed, and they all shouted 'Hallelujah!' That's about the extent of it, am I right?"

John rubbed his jaw. "Yeah, that's about right."

"So, take two steps back and touch this panel here, Your Glowiness. Please," Rodney added heavily.

John did what Rodney said. The panel lit up, the crack grew even brighter, and then they were both coughing and rubbing their eyes.

"Whoo-boy, that stinks," John said, but Rodney was already shoving him aside and plunging within the chamber.

Fresco paintings illuminated with gold covered most of the walls, but that wasn't what drew Rodney's attention. Instead, he headed directly toward the blue-green chest that was glowing faintly with an ethereal light. It stood at the foot of a gold-plated coffin. This was obviously a crypt, one of the few remaining untouched crypts in the catacombs.

As John approached behind him, the blue chest shone brighter.

"Whose tomb is this?" Rodney asked. His Latin, he was not ashamed to say, was terrible.

John pointed. "I think it says St. Tiberius. Hard to tell with those funky letters."

"Which one was he?"

"He was kind of a nutbar. They said he could see into other planes of existence, 'even unto the mantle of heaven' or some crap. And he believed in healing through, um," John coughed, "sex."

"Sexual healing."

"Hey, you can't _make_ this shit up."

"I can't believe you actually know it to begin with."

John shrugged. "They made me memorize all the saints. Gave me a pop quiz before they laid the papal powers on me."

"So, go ahead and touch the box."

"Why me?"

"Because you're the Pope with the mojo hands. Why do you think?"

But, of course, Rodney should have thought about it a little more first. As a scientist, and a scholar, and an undercover monk, he should have anticipated that mere moments after Pope John laid his holy hand on St. Tiberius' box the two of them would start making out like crazed sex weasels on the floor of the crypt and frantically try to divest themselves.

Literally.

"What are these, latch-strings?"

"Just rip 'em."

"I can't! They're like, made of gold or something. Christ, Sheppard!"

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain."

"Oh, shut up and suck me." Which John did by virtue of just shoving up Rodney's robes, while Rodney did the same for him.

The Pope, as it turned out, gave excellent head.

After things had calmed down a bit, Rodney found he'd been miraculously cured of his plantar fasciitis, his carpal tunnel and his sciatica. John told him the compressed vertebrae that had been giving him hell were completely better, as was his torn rotator cuff.

"How the hell does the Pope tear his rotator cuff?"

"We have a softball team." John raised his fist. "Go, Devildogs!"

When they finally looked inside the box, they saw a mirror, and in the mirror, they saw possibilities. Tiberius hadn't been kidding about other planes, but he wasn't talking about Heaven, Rodney realized, but other universes.

Rodney saw another John Sheppard, with hair equally ridiculous, but wearing a uniform and with a hard look to his face. When Rodney turned toward the holier version, he saw that same hardness reflected there.

"I think I know what this box is about, Rodney. We can't let the Vatican have it."

"I know. I have to get this back to Cheyenne Mountain—"

"Wait, what?" John put his hands on his hips. "What about me?"

"What about you? You really stuck on this Pontiff gig?"

"Not really. It's kind of cramping my style, to tell the truth."

"Then have I got a new job for you. Long hours, crap pay, and you get to put your life in danger a fair amount."

John frowned. "No Popemobile?"

"I'm afraid not. We do have spaceships, though. And you get to have sex with me again."

John ducked down and shoved the entire mess of robes and vestments off over the top of his head. Underneath he was wearing black slacks and a plain black T-shirt. And a silver cross.

"Count me in."

 

_End._

**Author's Note:**

> Ronon is obviously a spy for Homeworld Security. Just FYI.
> 
> And now:
> 
> [Atheist Ireland Publishes 25 Blasphemous Quotes](http://blasphemy.ie/2010/01/01/atheist-ireland-publishes-25-blasphemous-quotes/).
> 
> [Pope John Masterlist](http://esteefee.livejournal.com/69844.html).

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Incident at the Vatican](https://archiveofourown.org/works/238268) by [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie)
  * [President-Elect Evan Lorne](https://archiveofourown.org/works/598085) by [squidgie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/squidgie/pseuds/squidgie)




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